Bits and Pieces
by atrieisan
Summary: Danny Fenton only has a small recollection of who he used to be. The world is but a shadow of what it used to be, the streets barren and the dead shamble about in massive hordes... But none of this matters to him. The only thing on his mind is, "Who am I?" (Zombie Fic) (Rating may go up)


Bits and Pieces

He couldn't remember what it felt like to feel normal, or see normal people. It hadn't been more than four months since the world was torn asunder and the dead walked the earth in ravenous hordes. They stumbled about aimlessly; crowding the barren streets and ruined cities, left abandoned after the infection ravaged the population within hours. The foundation of society crumbled not long after, leaving a haunted shadow in the wake of what once was.

While he could not recall much from before; he knew he'd succumbed to the disease, the reminder hidden beneath the bandages, a ghastly wound of tooth torn flesh that left his neck visibly scarred. He didn't like to look at it. Thus he kept it wrapped in gauze and hidden from sight with an old turtleneck. The rest of his appearance didn't hold as much care; jeans tattered and stained with blood and grime, his shoes in similar condition as he shambled about. The only thing he cared about more than the shirt that hid his trauma was the mask hanging off his belt.

It was a simple thing, a dull shade of worn out olive held on with two clasps. It only covered the lower half of his face, encasing his jaw in a sturdy muzzle; a muzzle that held back the carnal desires, preventing him from delving into the mindless, cannibalistic hunger that plagued the rest of the infected. He just couldn't bear the thought of sinking his teeth into another, only to relish in the sweet taste of flesh, ignoring the screams of the one consumed. Thus he clung to the muzzle as a last lifeline to his humanity, at least what was left of it.

Danny sighed, looking at his reflection in the cracked bathroom mirror. His yellow eyes bore into him, glowing in the dim unlike those of the dull dead gray of the others. They stared back at him with his dirt caked face and disheveled gray hair, water dripping from the ends. It was an unpleasant image, a shadow of who he once was. He only knew that much from the wallet he'd found in his back pocket; an old school ID bearing his face and name; a lively expression with blue eyes full of mirth under a shock of raven black hair. He wished he could remember it, trying to impose the image over himself in the mirror. It never seemed to work, those gold eyes staring back at him. At the very least he could retain his name, the only thing he could identify himself by from the rest of the horde.

He splashed more water on his face, trying to wash some of the grime away. A few walkers stumbled about nearby, curious to the sound of running water. He simply ignored them, knowing they'd find no meal here. While there wasn't food, he was grateful the place still had freshwater. Electricity and therefore the pumps that moved water were some of the first things to go without humanities upkeep. Thus places like this were a rare and welcome commodity. Sure it had been a public restroom at one point prior to the outbreak, but now it was a perfect place to wash up and scavenge.

He'd taken to scavenging as more of a hobby than a necessity for survival; a mere means of reminding himself of his humanity, collecting things of interest and displaying them in a small ramshackle apartment he'd taken over. It was a modest little place, a two bedroom with cream carpet, shifting into tile where it met the kitchen. He'd been grateful that whoever originally owned the place hadn't been home at the time when the world fell apart; there was no murder scene painted into the rooms like so many others, only a few coffee and mud stains over the years of wear. It was just a matter of keeping the others out, less they tracked gore into the house; a small sanctuary that he'd rather not have stained with the reality of what was outside the walls.

He shut the water off, successful in removing most of the unwanted filth. He honestly hated how gross he felt; but the lack of water at the apartment and the trek two and from the old restroom left him unable to truly feel clean. It was also near impossible to get rid of the smell of rot and copper/blood as it was practically everywhere, and wading through the horde would leave him just as covered in it was he'd been prior to washing it off. He could only sigh at the result.

A small crooning sound garnered Danny's attention away from the sink, though it wasn't of much concern. The sound was just the small inquiry of the disheveled zombie behind him. It was a strange walker, similar to him, in that it wasn't bound to the following of the horde, but only partially as cognizant. While not as self-aware as Danny was himself, it was still better company than the others that wandered aimlessly, only to growl and run after the nearest sound.

He'd found himself quite perturbed the first time he'd encountered him, sitting on the sidewalk, just staring off into space with a lopsided grin. It was honestly bizarre, especially with how curious he became upon seeing Danny. His disheveled appearance and shaggy hair sticking up at odd ends caused the teen to dub the friendly walker, Scraggy.

Scraggy had taken to following the teen almost everywhere, much to the teen's dismay. Tagging along like a lovesick puppy; waiting outside the apartment, only to scare the living daylights out of Danny when he'd opened the door to leave the next morning. The undead teen eventually calmed down, growing familiar with the zombies antics, and eventually grew to not mind the company. While not able to converse, he left less alone with Scraggy, even if it was only because the walker appeared to be listening. There was that cognitive spark in those dead eyes and the way he smiled that had Danny certain that he was.

"C'mon, we don't have time to stay here all day," Danny smiled, picking up his pack he'd set under the sink and hoisting it onto his shoulders. The walker in turn just smiled in its usual manner and followed after him.

The two weaved through the crowds with little difficulty, pushing through till they were out in the barren streets. A look towards the sun confirmed that they still had plenty of time to scrounge before night set in. Not that the darkness was a hindrance to them like it was to the living, but more a means of comfort to be within a sanctuary he could call home and in a bed. Not that he really sleep that much.

A small convenience store came into view a few blocks down, its windows broken and the door barely hanging from its hinges. It had clearly been raided before, though he wasn't searching for necessities like its last scavengers. Shifting around the broken glass, he slipped through the doorway and through the wreckage in search of anything of interest.

The shelves were mostly barren aside from debris; old magazines littered the floor in disarray along with flyers and other useless things. But they were not overlooked by the teen. Picking through them, Danny managed to find a few that were mostly intact, only missing a few pages here and there, or with faded, water stained covers. He didn't care much for their topics, with the end of the world being surprisingly boring from his point of view, finding any snippets to read or things to entertain him were worthwhile finds.

He'd already lined the shelves in his apartment with a variety of literature he'd found over the last few months. He'd taken almost every comic book from the library downtown; a still frequented location between his wanderings as there were too many books for him to sequester away. It still helped him paint a better picture of what the world used to be before the outbreak.

Scraggy continued to the shuffle about, finding small things of interest and carting them over, like a child showing his parents what he'd found. For the most part Danny would dismiss him, not finding anything useful with what was brought his way. Though there were times when he'd bring something that would catch the teen's eye, and the zombie would just smile his usual smile and go off to find more or similar items. In that sense it became a usual routine, reminding Danny of training a dog as the walker would for the most part, remember and find certain items without prompt. As such he made a useful scavenging partner

A sudden noise and shift of movement and the undead teen froze in his tracks, suddenly alert of his surroundings and searching for the source. It wasn't the usual noise that accompanied the walkers milling about, but the steady rhythm of boots against the pavement and hushed whispers he could barely register. Survivors…

Panic flooded him as his hackles raised. He couldn't really consider himself one, while cognizant and aware, he knew he'd succumbed to the infection like so many others. The bite on his neck was proof enough. Thus he knew he was considered a threat, if not more so than the other walkers in this post-apocalyptic world. That and people were less forgiving… and more willing to pull the trigger.

The source of their hushed voices was just around the corner, and a quick assessment of his surroundings confirmed that they were boxed in. The back entrance through the storeroom was locked tight, and trying to break it would create too much noise and draw attention. Silently cursing, Danny stuffed his catch into his pack, turning to look for his companion.

Scraggy wasn't far off, crouched low at the end of the small aisle, teeth bared but otherwise silent. He was grateful that the walker was aware enough to assess the threat for what it was instead of barreling out screaming and charging the survivors in instinct driven hunger. Danny could feel his own hunger flare with an almost rabid turmoil, a sensation he could barely keep in check, especially when he hadn't eaten in days. It frightened him down to his bones, and left his fingers itching at the clasp where his mask hung from his belt. He had to make a decision.

He turned towards the disheveled zombie, sliding a magazine over towards him as a distraction. It had been enough to get him to look up at him, giving Danny a chance to whisper the command he hoped the walker would follow, "Wait here till I've lured them away… Make sure that book gets home safe, ok?"

He was less concerned about the magazine and more hoping that the task would distract Scraggy from delving into the familiar aggressive behavior that the others displayed. As it was, the walker was more likely to follow instruction when given something it would do naturally. He just hoped it played in his favor. As expected, Scraggy picked up the magazine, giving it a once over before looking back up and nodding. The smile was absent, but the look in his eyes was enough of an answer. Danny accepted it with a nod of his own.

The sound of footsteps was drawing closer, warning that there wasn't much time before they would be discovered. Grimacing, the teen strapped on the muzzle before giving the zombie one last glance, "Remember, stay hidden…" And with that he took off.

Like a bat out of hell, he flung himself over the rubble and out into the street, stopping only briefly to catch a glimpse of the survivors. Successful in garnering their attention away from the store, he took off down the block, hearing their shouts not far behind him.

"Wait kid! Don't go that way!"

He didn't answer them, only taking seconds to process their cries before he rounded the corner only to come to the startling realization of what was in front of him. A mobile wall greeted him, a mass of undead shambling about, crowding most of the street. They'd yet to notice the commotion, and he hoped that he could keep it that way. As much as he didn't want to interact with the survivors, he wasn't about to let them suffer the same fate as the horde in front of him.

Cursing under his breath, he turned to try and make a run for it, hoping to lead the humans elsewhere before they came into contact with one another. However it seemed fate wasn't going to be kind to him, as the second he rounded the corner he found himself slamming into them. He yelped in alarm, stumbling back, only to be grabbed by the wrists and held there.

"Easy! We don't want to hurt you," the eldest of the three frowned, trying to placate what he considered a lost kid. At least that was until the teen leveled his gaze, acidic yellow eyes boring into him, "What the-"

"Ben…" The woman with them warned, though her gaze was focused on what was behind them. The groans and uneven footsteps a familiar sound of walkers, they'd been drawn near by the sound of the teen's cry of surprise. The man, Ben, was still focused on the fact that the boy in front of him was alarmingly not human.

"Ben!" Her last shout had been enough to draw the man's attention upwards, catching sight of the horde meandering towards them.

Danny at that moment took the distraction to wriggle his way out of his grip, stumbling back a few paces to distance himself from them. It only took a glance over his shoulder to realize their predicament, the others staring in horror at the massive horde not even ten meters off. Only a few heads had turned their way, but it was enough to where Danny knew it would start a domino effect, the message would spread through the masses and have every last one in the horde after them. He needed to act fast, less the survivors become victims to ravenous jaws. He gave them one last glance, hoping that this last hair-brained idea would work.

"Run…" was the only word he muttered, but it held with a finality that frightened them as much as the glow in his eyes. Then in a flurry of motion he took off, shoving himself into the crowd of undead, ignoring the shouts of alarm. He had to get the horde's attention before all of them became aware of the humans and were driven into a feeding frenzy.

Turning another corner, he mustered up the courage and let out a scream; a guttural, feral sounding howl that echoed through the streets with inhuman sound. It was a sound that drove the horde, calling out to it and guiding it where to go; a sound that had the pack of zombies chasing after the teen as if he'd rung a dinner bell. A trick he'd learned on accident one day, finding that his screams could attract the horde for miles, and pull their attention stronger than any car alarm. The only downside was that the walkers wound remain antsy for hours afterwards, especially when there was no food to be found.

He could only hope that everything went according to plan, and that the survivors had escaped only having to fight off a handful rather than an entire mass of them. Now it was his turn to get away. Scaling a nearby fire escape, he clambered in through the open third floor window, thankful that the rest of them couldn't climb or figure out how. But once again it seemed that nothing was in his favor, as just when he thought he was in the clear, he turned around only to find a shot gun aimed at his face.

Everything froze, halted in mid motion, eyes trained on the weapon in his face. Coming into focus, his gaze trailed down the barrel to find more survivors in front of him… great… He couldn't be certain if they were part of the same group he'd just escaped from, only that they seemed to be congregating around the outskirts of town like he hadn't seen before. Then again, this area was largely unexplored, so he hoped it was just his imagination… that or there was a settlement nearby.

The teen raised his hands in surrender, assuring them that he wasn't armed. It had the desired effect, as the man in front of him lowered his weapon just a tad. Danny was still aware that their weapons were still trained on him, and the growing sense of unease held heavy in the air. He felt himself squirming under their scrutiny.

"Jeeze, it's just a kid… For a second I feared those walkers had learned how to climb," The man huffed. A veteran to combat was all the undead teen could deduce, while relaxed some, the man still held a defensive posture and a stance for battle. He could respect that much, experience taught that if one didn't have their guard up, they'd end up dead, if not by zombies, then by other survivors.

The others in the room didn't share in the man's relief, shifting uneasily, only adding to Danny's discomfort. While the threat level had gone from imminent to present, the looks he received from around the room were worrisome, but with sound reason. It wouldn't take an expert to notice that something was off, from the bloodstained bandages that covered his arms and neck, and could, and were in fact, hiding bite marks, to the muzzle clasped tightly around the teen's jaw; ashen skin and sunken, yellow eyes that burned in the dim with an unnatural glow.

His fears were realized by the suspicious glare he received from the young woman in the back of the room. Her violet eyes sparked in warning through her raven hair, her stare level with his, and he couldn't shake the fact that he should know her.

"That's not a kid…"

The whole group jumped at her words, all eyes shifting onto the boy with greater scrutiny. Danny could feel the alarm bells ringing in his head, thus he took an uneasy step back towards the window. That had been a mistake, as every weapon in the room was suddenly drawn and aimed at him. He was beginning to think he was better off dealing with the pack of walkers. The girl, now in front of him, had also drawn her weapon, a 9mm in hand, barrel aimed at him, "It's just a shell of someone I used to know…"

"Are you saying that boy's a walker?"

"Well, shit!"

The cries of alarm were muffled white noise to Danny's ears, his mind struggling to comprehend what she had just said. He knew he needed to run, take cover, or do something to defend himself before he ended up swiss cheese, but the only response he could muster was to stare at her in confusion.

"I used to know you..?" It was barely an audible whisper through the mask, but it seemed that every figure in the room had heard him as they all froze, staring at the supposed walker in shock. Any initial attempt to fire was stopped in mid motion, uncertainty brewing with the hushed murmurs that followed. Walkers didn't talk, they couldn't talk… so what was going on?

"That's not possible…" The girl's gun had dropped to the floor, trembling hands covering her mouth as it to prevent her from screaming, "That's not possible… that's not possible….. I… I saw you die… You were bit!"

His hand instinctively covered the wound on his bandaged mask, gold eyes wide with shock. His response had been enough to confirm her fears. The bandages themselves were stained rusty from old wounds, wounds that bled profusely despite all treatment; the bite that had turned him into one of them.

"You're dead…. You should be dead… how are you here Danny….?" Her words were becoming jumbled with her frightened uncertainty. It only added to his own unease, until she'd said his name; the one thing that held him to his past, to who he once was, and yet didn't even know that much. Now there was her… It was too much to take in, and it overwhelmed him. Thus he did the only thing that came to mind. He ran.

Darting back out the window in a blink of an eye, half falling, half stumbling down the fire escape, he disappeared into the swarm of undead below. He ignored their hollers and the girl's calls after him, he couldn't bring himself to face that reality again; the reality that he was dead, a shadow of whom he used to be, and yet he couldn't even remember that. He wasn't human any more…

Danny continued to run through the streets and alley ways, not stopping for breath till he all but collapsed at his front door. He couldn't even bring himself to acknowledge that his disheveled companion had made it back, the walker giving a concerned croon as he pushed past and into the apartment.

He collapsed on the sofa, chest heaving, half with exhausted breaths, and half with gasping tears. He didn't know what to think in that moment, shaky hands pulling out his wallet, thumbing over the picture in its display pouch. It was the only thing he could relate to, to remind himself that he wasn't a monster, that this was who he was, yet, he wasn't even certain of that.

"Just who am I….?"


End file.
